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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441275">suffice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeds/pseuds/seeds'>seeds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Songfic, Unrequited Crush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:20:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeds/pseuds/seeds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't often that George's phone would light up telling him that Dream tweeted. So, he was nothing more than shocked when drunken Dream released a song at 2:45 a.m. (EST). Even worse, what happens when George realizes that the song is about him?</p><p>---</p><p>song is 'suffice' by mxmtoon</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>506</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the release</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A world where Dream writes music and drunkenly released a song about George. The song is 'suffice" by mxmtoon! I recommend you give it a listen, I genuinely enjoy the song. :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George had Twitter notifications on for very few people. That’s why, when his phone lit up with a tweet, he knew it would be one of his close friends.</p><p>At 7:45 a.m., his phone lay on the arm of the couch he was sitting on. He had a hot cup of coffee in his hands, a blanket draped over his legs that he held close to his chest. The television was at a low volume, the news channel simply telling him that the air would be fucking freezing that day. His phone lit up with a Twitter notification, illuminating as much of the dark living room that it could.</p><p>He placed the mug on the table, exchanging the warm drink for his cold phone. He clicked the notification, loading the social media app to see which one of his friends tweeted a stupid fucking joke this time.</p><p> </p><p><em> Dream @Dream tweeted: haha new song or whatever youtube.com/dream </em>.</p><p> </p><p>George almost spit the coffee straight out of his mouth. Who in their right mind would release a song at 2:45 a.m. EST with no announcement besides a stupid tweet? Besides that, when did Dream write music?! When did he own any instrument, or have any sense of lyrics? He clicked the link, turning up his volume all the way and setting the device to the side. He picked up the mug again, listening to the strums of the guitar. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I keep sitting here waiting for something </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But I know nothing will happen </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yes, I know nothing has happened </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ok, simple for now. Except for the fact that he instantly fell for Dream’s voice, everything was fine. Nothing weird about the lyrics. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But I'll keep sitting here waiting for you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Though I won't do much about it </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No, I don't do much about it </em>
</p><p> </p><p>George furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He honestly had no fucking clue what his friend was talking about. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 'Cause, I have only loved without confession </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'd rather settle for a never-ending stream of self-questioning </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And you are just another </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That I'll lose because I didn't want to bother </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He simply stared at the wall. There was honestly <em>no</em> way he was singing about what George thought he was singing about. He brushed the thought out of his head, but it kept coming back. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And how sad </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is it that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I suffice for friendship </em>
</p><p> </p><p>So it <em> might </em>be about what George thought it was about. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I've never been good at being honest </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No, at least not with my feelings </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh I'd have a hard time dealing </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well, of course, Dream would often show frustration to his friends about anything. Whether something his friends said, or fans, or family, or he himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I've never quite gotten just how one </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Could be so brave and, oh, so bold </em>
</p><p>
  <em> To share their love at ten years old </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The only time Dream wasn’t confident was when, well, when he and George would hang out together in a separate call and talk. But still, there’s no fucking way. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 'Cause, I have only loved without confession </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'd rather settle for a never-ending stream of self-questioning </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And you are just another </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That I'll lose because I didn't want to bother </em>
</p><p> </p><p>George got up, leaving his coffee to cool on the table in front of him. He threw his blanket on the floor, beginning to pace around the room. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And how sad </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is it that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I suffice for friendship </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The words echoed through his head. <em> Friendship </em> . <em>Friendship. Friendship. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Though I've longed to be that kind of person </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Who doesn't care or feel a burden </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But no, I haven't gotten there yet </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But I hope one day I'll find myself </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Loving another so much I'll share with the other </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How I feel </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t uncommon that Dream would keep to himself. Even if he was stressed, he wouldn’t tell a soul. George could ask him for hours how he was, and Dream would only care about George. He said he felt like a "burden" if he put his problems onto his friends. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 'Cause, I have only loved without confession </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I'd rather settle for a never-ending stream of self-questioning </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And you are just another </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That I'll lose because I didn't want to bother </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And how sad  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is it that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I suffice for friendship </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The video ended, and George never grabbed his phone quicker. His first instinct was to call Dream, to try and figure out whatever the hell he just listened to. When he didn’t answer, and he was offline on Discord, George ultimately gave up and called the next best person.</p><p> </p><p>“George? Did you get that notification too?”</p><p>“Yeah, I did. Did you listen to it, Sapnap?”</p><p>“Just finished it. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”</p><p>“It’s about me, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah. It most definitely is.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. not her son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dream struggles with the outcomes of his drunken actions.</p><p>i would never wish these events on anyone, and i hope you are all in a good place/environment right now. this chapter is a bit of me projecting into this story (but we don't have to talk about that).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream woke up in his bathtub. In the cold, empty bathtub. He looked around, noticing the guitar laying on the floor next to his phone, along with a metal water bottle of whatever mysterious liquid was inside. His head was pounding, so he took the bottle and smelt it, hoping it would be water. It wasn’t water, it was wine.</p><p>So that’s what happened last night. He got drunk, great.</p><p>He reached for his phone, which was very much dead. Grabbing Advil from the cabinet, he stuck his head under the sink faucet to get some water and wash down the pills. He plugged his phone in before putting away his guitar and dumping the leftover wine down the sink. He grabbed a slice of bread, throwing it into the toaster before feeding Patches.</p><p>The clock read 10 a.m., but Dream honestly had no idea of what time he went to sleep. Cleaning the mess of a kitchen that he called his own, the empty wine bottle laid sideways on the island, along with crumbs of whatever he had eaten last night.</p><p>He spread strawberry jam across the crispy bread, shoving it into his mouth. It might’ve been extremely hot, but he was fucking starving. He washed that down with a large glass of water and hopped into the shower. He left it colder than normal, his headache not wanting him to be hot. The shampoo ran into his eyes, which he quickly scrubbed in hopes to wash it out. It burned bad, but he continued his shower in hopes to feel a bit better than when he woke up.</p><p>And he did. His house was clean, and so was he. Despite the dying headache, Dream was having a fucking good morning.</p><p>That was until he checked his phone and looked at his latest tweet.</p><p>He released his song last night.</p><p>Sure, it was partly his fault, for getting drunk and giving himself access to the audio he had recorded last week. However, he didn’t think he was stupid enough to <em> actually </em> release it. He threw his hands through his damp hair, slamming his elbows onto his desk. A million missed calls and unread texts from Sapnap, and a few of both from George. <em> George </em>.</p><p>He opened the messages, the most recent dating back to 3 a.m.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>sapnap </b>
</p><p>you’re so fucking stupid</p><p>i know you just hung up</p><p>call back</p><p>did you just post it on youtube</p><p>heh</p><p>dream go take it down</p><p>omfg you tweeted</p><p>bro you need to take it down</p><p>dream did you go to sleep</p><p>i stg</p><p>answer the fucking phone</p><p>dream</p><p>he figured it out dream</p><p>george figured it out</p><p>god you’re so fucking stupid</p><p>he knows</p><p>jesus christ</p><p>call me when you wake up</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Dream almost dropped the phone, few tears stung his eyes as he read down the screen. George knew his secret. He had hidden it for so long, and his drunk ass went and ruined everything. Uncovered all his secrets. George would hate him now. He tightened his grip on the phone, spamming the ‘call’ button as many times as he could.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“I’m fucked, Sapnap.”</p><p>“I know that, Dream.”</p><p>He sighed. “You said that he knows? He knows it’s about him?”</p><p>“Of course, he does. You can’t release something like that and not expect him to know?”</p><p>Dream kicked the edge of his bed. “Fuck!” He sank to the floor, leaning his back against the bed. He threw his head into his hand. “What am I supposed to do? He’s gonna hate me. I never even came out to him. Oh my, I never came out to anyone. What if my parents find out? Fuck, everyone’s gonna find out. Sapnap, if they find out-” Tears poured out of his eyes. Dream found it getting harder to breathe, and squeezed his eyes closed.</p><p>“Dream, it’s ok. You’re ok, I’m ok, George is ok. Everyone is ok. I promise.” His reassurance barely helped. “Can you do me a favor? Can you try to breathe with me?”</p><p>Dream somehow managed to cough up a muttered “yes.”</p><p>“Alright, ready? Inhale, and exhale. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.” They sat on call for a few minutes, simply breathing. It might sound stupid, but he already felt so much better. It had taken instruction from his friend, but he could finally breathe again. “Now, tell me everything you need to. And take your time.”</p><p>“You were the only person that knew, Sap. What’s everyone gonna do when they find out?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You think they’re gonna leave the SMP? Maybe everyone will unsubscribe. What if my parents stop calling?”</p><p>“Dream. Anyone who finds out won’t care if they truly love you. I promise. If any single person figures it out and has a problem with it, they aren’t worth your time, and it’s better to not have them in your life. Our friends won’t care if you’re bi, I promise. I mean, they support Eret, Niki, Antfrost, Velvet, Scott Smajor, the list goes on and on. Their opinions of you won’t change. And if they do, they fucking suck and their opinions aren’t valid.”</p><p>He stood up, moving to sit down in his chair. “Thank you, man. It honestly means the world.”</p><p>“Anytime.” He pulled up Twitter onto his monitor.</p><p>“You think they know?”</p><p>“I doubt it, Dream.” The second he opened Twitter and checked his indirects, Sapnap was proven <em> very </em> wrong.</p><p>“They definitely know, dude.”</p><p>“How?</p><p>” He opened Discord on the other monitor, copying the link and sending it. “Look at that.” A long list of tweets loaded, all saying the general same things. Either that Dream was gay, or that it was about George <em> or </em>Sapnap. Both were somewhat correct, but neither was a good sign.</p><p>“Oh, fuck.”</p><p>“Should I address it?”</p><p>“Only if you’re ready to. Don’t pressure yourself to do anything.”</p><p>“I think I should do it.”</p><p>“Ok then.”</p><p>“Can you write the tweet with me?”</p><p>“Of course.” The pair sat there for nearly ten minutes, struggling to write an explanation thread full of truths <em> and </em> lies. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><b>Dream </b>@dream</p><p> </p><p>hey everyone! as many of you probably know, i released a song last night. however, i have a bit of explaining to do. i’ll talk about as much as i can in the following thread. </p><p>|</p><p>first off, i recorded the song about a week ago. the problem here is that i was completely drunk and released it. even under unwanted circumstances, i hoped you all enjoyed it. </p><p>|</p><p>second off, many of you speculated about who it could be about. i won’t be saying who it was about, but many of you are wrong. </p><p>|</p><p>third, some of you have said it was about a guy, and that i was gay. although i was hoping to do this on my own terms, i do want to come out and say that i am bisexual. i hope you can all continue to support me.</p><p>|</p><p>i’ll try to answer any other questions that come up. i love you all so much and thank you for your support.</p><p> </p><p><br/>
“Is that good?”</p><p>“Good as it’ll get.”</p><p>“Ok.” Dream’s cursor hovered over the ‘send tweet’ button. His hand shook. “Tell me I can do it.”</p><p>“If you’re not ready, you don’t have-”</p><p>“I <em>need</em> you to tell me I can do it.”</p><p>“You can do it, Dream. You fucking got this.” A deep inhale, and he pressed the button.</p><p>“There’s no undoing that, y’know.”</p><p>Sapnap chuckled. “There’s no undoing anything from the last 12 hours.”</p><p>He leaned back in his chair. “What should I do about George?”</p><p>“Honestly? I think he was a bit shaken up, you should probably give him a bit of space. Maybe text him once, but don’t push it.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“When did you get so mature? Last time I checked you still acted as you did 8 years ago.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up.”</p><p>Dream’s phone dinged, and he looked over at it. “My mom just texted me.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“She wants me to call her.”</p><p>“Ok, go do that.”</p><p>“Can you stay on Discord? Like on my computer?”</p><p>“I don’t want to intrude on your conversation…”</p><p>“I can mute, just be there in case I need you.”</p><p>“Alright, good luck, man.”</p><p> </p><p>He left on his phone and joined on his monitor, muting his microphone and picking up the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Mom!”</p><p>“Clay.”</p><p>Dream went silent, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“Your father and I saw your tweet.”</p><p>“Ok? And?”</p><p>“You like men?”</p><p>He gulped, pulling his legs to his chest. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”</p><p>His mother cleared her throat. “Your father thinks it would be best for you to distance yourself from us for a while.”</p><p>He desperately tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat, but to no avail, his voice cracked the second he tried to speak “W-what?”</p><p>“Until you come to your senses, your father thinks you should stay away.”</p><p>“And what do you think?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Clay.”</p><p>“But Mom-”</p><p>“Don’t say that.”</p><p>“I can’t call you Mom?”</p><p>“Goodbye, Clay.” The sound of her hanging up haunted his brain. The phone stayed at his ear. He desperately hoped for her to say one more thing, to say it was a joke and that she missed him.</p><p>“Mom?” His voice was low, he sounded like a whimpering dog. The device in his hand was silent, cold. He took it, holding it as tightly as possible.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream? You’ve been muted for a while. Are you ok?” He hit the unmute button, still clutching his phone. “There you are! How did it go?” Dream took the phone in his hand and threw it against the wall. He was honestly shocked that it didn’t completely shatter. “What the fuck was that?”</p><p>“You don’t hate me.”</p><p>“No, I don’t hate you.”</p><p>“Say it again.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Tell me you don’t hate me.” He choked on his own words, a sentence turning into a desperate plea. “<em> Please </em>.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you, Dream. I will never hate you. I care for you. You make me laugh, and I’m so glad to call you my friend. You are deserving of every great thing that has happened to you. You work so hard- You know what? I’m gonna book a flight to your house. I’m gonna come see you for a while, alright?” </p><p>"Please do." He was honestly happy to see Sapnap. Someone would be there for him, a shoulder to cry on.</p><p>“Dream?”</p><p>“Mhm?”</p><p>“What did she say?”</p><p>“She said,” He wiped his face off. “She said that Dad wanted me to stay away until I ‘<em>come to my senses</em>’ or whatever. And then I asked her what she thought, and she said…”</p><p>“Take your time.”</p><p>“She said I can’t call her Mom.”</p><p>“Oh, Dream.”</p><p>“I’m not her son anymore, am I?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say-”</p><p>He glanced down at his wrist, at the bracelet he got a few years back on a family vacation. It had been too big at the time, and it still fits him to this day. “Fuck, I’m not her son anymore.” Sapnap went silent, and Dream began rummaging around his desk. “Where are my scissors?”</p><p>“Why do you need scissors?”</p><p>“Get this stupid fucking bracelet off my wrist.”</p><p>“Why?” The sound of an aggressive snip flowed through the air, causing Patches to jump off the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not her son anymore.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>fic! dream has it rough</p><p>on a serious note: thank you, thank you, thank you for all the kind words. even if i don't respond, i see all the comments, and i appreciate every single one. they encourage me to keep working on the stories, so thank you</p><p>edit: happy new year's!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. flight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George had been laying open-eyed in his bed for the past 30 minutes, but it felt like hours. His eyes stung every time he looked over at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock.</p><p>His ceiling was blank, obviously, it was. It was his ceiling. He needed to sleep, but he couldn’t. There were a million things he wanted to say to Dream- scratch that. Things he <em> needed </em> to say to Dream. He had even rehearsed it to his wall a few times. But every time he grabbed his phone, his mind would go blank, and his throat would go dry.</p><p>George forced himself to get out of bed, shuffling his feet to the bathroom. The tile floor was cold on his bare feet, the mirror shooting back an image of a tired, confused George. His shoulders felt heavy. He was soon in the kitchen, holding an empty glass under the faucet. He hadn’t even realized it was overflowing until he felt the lukewarm water drip on his hands. He shut it off, pouring the extra down the drain.</p><p>George took the first sip, which turned into the entire glass. “What am I doing…”</p><p>Within minutes, he was at his monitor, typing as fast as he could. Yes, the idea was spontaneous, and stupid, and probably not going to work, but in all honesty, George could care less. He glanced at his phone. Sunday at 3 a.m. Ok, he only had to wait until Monday at 5 p.m.</p><p>Then, he could be on his way, on his way to apologize for face-to-face with his best friend. His best friend who he had fallen for.</p><p>Falling back into his messy bed, the weight of his shoulders had lifted. He felt light, his mind felt clearer. George was soon lulled to sleep by the howling wind outside his walls.</p><p>He didn’t awake until 2 p.m. Even less time he had to wait through. Rolling over, a text from Sapnap illuminated the screen. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>sappitus nappitus</b>
</p><p>tommy needs some help on his stream</p><p>can you join?</p><p>i know it’s been a few minutes but he still needs one person</p><p>i’m down!</p><p>i’ll be there in 5 minutes</p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/>He silently cursed himself for not waking sooner, but that was something he really couldn’t control. He rolled out of bed, throwing on a hoodie and some sweatpants before powering on his monitor. Using his phone, he checked to see what exactly Tommy was streaming. *TEACHING MY FRIENDS HOW TO BUILD!!!*</p><p>He rolled his eyes, knowing that his hotbar would be filled to the brim with cobblestone as soon as he joined. He booted up Minecraft and managed to join the Discord and the SMP at the exact same time.</p><p> </p><p>“MR. GEORGENOTFOUND, HELLO!!!”</p><p>“Hello, Tommy!”</p><p>A cough ensued from a member of the call. “I, um, I gotta go Tommy. Something came up, sorry!” George almost froze at the sound of the far-too familiar voice.</p><p>“Still hungover, Dream?” A deep sigh came from his friend and Tommy laughed at his remark. It didn’t turn out to be the funny joke he thought it would be.</p><p>“You could say that. I’ll talk to you later.” He left without another word, and an awkward silence pooled up like collecting fog.</p><p>“Well, are you ready to build, George?” A few hours passed, and after dozens and dozens of cobblestone towers, Tommy was finally ending the stream. “Is anyone gonna stream? I could raid.”</p><p>“I’m gonna start!” Tubbo said.</p><p>“Ok, I’ll keep chat here till you start!”</p><p>“I’m gonna head out, thanks for the fun, Tommy!”</p><p>“No problem, Sapnap! That’s a dumb fucking name, by the way.”</p><p>He jokingly scoffed, the eye roll clear in his voice. “Goodbye, child.”</p><p>“George, we have that video to work on, remember?” Bad spoke up, in an urgent tone.</p><p>“Oh, yeah…”</p><p>“Bye boys!!”</p><p>“Goodbye, Tommy!” He was pulled into a new call with Bad.</p><p>“What video are you on about? We literally have <em> nothing </em> planned?”</p><p>“Oh, I know! I just wanted to check up on you.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You haven’t been very active. Like, you haven’t tweeted, streamed, and you don’t join our late-night calls anymore.”</p><p>George slumped his shoulders, leaning on the desk in front of him. “I don’t know, I’ve been a bit caught up recently.”</p><p>“With? I noticed that Dream left the second you joined, there has to be something going on.”</p><p>“Did you, um, hear his song?”</p><p>“Yep! It was really good.”</p><p>“I think it was about me, Bad.” The other fell silent, only quiet barks from Rat peeking into his headset.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah…”</p><p>“And how do you feel about that?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Like, how did you feel when you found out, and how do you feel now?” George was stumped, picking himself up and bringing his wireless headset with him into the kitchen to brew a cup of tea.</p><p>“I haven’t really thought about it.”</p><p>Shuffling came from his friend on the other side of the phone. “Then, you and I are gonna figure it out together.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Well, you’ll be out of whatever slump you’re in, and you’ll be able to communicate with Dream. Are you ready?”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s do it.”</p><p>“Perfect. First question, what is Dream to you? If any question is too difficult, we can come back to it later.”</p><p>“We’ll come back to that one, next.”</p><p>“Ok, how do you feel around Dream?”</p><p>“Happy. No matter what mood I’m in, he always makes me laugh. Sometimes he makes me nervous? Like butterflies, a good nauseous.”</p><p>“Alright, next question. Why do you think you’re reacting this way?”</p><p>“I think I was scared? Or shocked. I didn’t expect him to like me back, y’know? He wrote a whole song about me, I guess I just didn’t realize he thought of me like that, especially for a long time? He likes me enough to write a whole <em> song </em> about me?”</p><p>“So you like him?”</p><p>“I don’t know if that describes the feeling.”</p><p>“Describe it to me.”</p><p>“I always miss him. Like, we could stay on a call all day, sleep on call, but I’ll miss him the second it ends. I miss his touch, but I’ve never even felt his touch. Can you miss someone you’ve never met? And, as I said, he always makes me happy. His voice is really comforting. It’s warm, it feels like home, y’know?” Bad gave a knowing hum in response, and George continued. “I know we like jokingly flirt all the time, but sometimes it feels real. And when it does, I get really flustered. And if I get him notably flustered, I get kinda proud? When he’s upset, I’m upset that he’s upset. He’s always so caring. I trust him more than anything, Bad. I trust him more than I trust myself. And-” He cut himself off. “I gotta get on that plane.”</p><p>“What plane?”</p><p>“I got a flight, a flight to Florida for tomorrow at 5 p.m. I gotta see him. I need to pack a bag, get some sleep.”</p><p>“Alright, you do that George.”</p><p>“One last thing, Bad?”</p><p>“Yeah, George?”</p><p>“To answer your first question, Dream is everything to me. I <em> love </em>him.” Bad could hear George smile, and George could hear Bad do the same.</p><p>“Goodnight, George.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Bad.” The cup of tea was now cold, but he left it sitting on the counter. He ran to the bathroom, leaning on his hands as he looked in the mirror. “I’m going to see Dream. I’m going to see Dream!"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ahhhhhhh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. don't give up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter has an absurd amount of dream playing the guitar, please enjoy :)</p>
<p>the songs are 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You' by Elvis Presley and 'Yesterday' by the Beatles</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream hated Mondays. It doesn’t matter if he actually had work, school, or anything planned for that day. He could genuinely have a free day with not a single thing to do, but he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>despise Mondays.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> But when one wakes up remembering how utterly alone they are on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Monday</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they’re gonna feel like complete <em>shit</em>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Dream looked to the time. 5:10 a.m. It wasn’t shocking, accounting for the fact that he fell asleep quite early last night. After everything went down the day before, he went for a drive to clear his mind. It was actually nice, but he came home and checked YouTube to see that his song was still #1 on Trending. It wasn’t necessarily a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing. Receiving recognition for things that you are genuinely proud of is the best feeling in the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> people to know about it. Why did he even record it in the first place? He soon found himself sobbing to sleep, in his bed this time around. Now that he was awake, the happiness of his dreams soon washed away with the sadness of his reality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> His phone had new notifications, obviously. But none of them were from George. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and slipped on a shirt. He wanted to make this day the best it could be. Ignoring his current problems, he fed his cat before grabbing his keys, slipping on crocs, and getting in the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> It was now 5:15 a.m., so he knew the already secluded beach would be even quieter. After around 15 minutes of driving, he arrived at the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The waves crashed onto the rocks below. The short cliff was still beautiful, no matter what time it was. He pulled the guitar out of the back of his car, draping the strap over his shoulder and carrying the instrument to the edge. He sat down, dangling his feet over the edge. The birds were chirping loudly in the trees nearby. The sun was beginning to rise, an array of colors forming over the horizon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> This is just what he needed to clear his head. This was a moment he wanted to remember, so he opened the camera app, leaning it against the trunk of a tree as he recorded himself. He began to pluck at the strings, singing to the tune he was creating. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wise men say</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Only fools rush in</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to stop. His voice cracked, but he pushed through. He wouldn’t give up now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shall I stay?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Would it be a sin</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If I can't help falling in love with you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream thought of his father, how he would face him and repeat himself, assuring it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a sin. But did he really care? Honestly, <em>if</em> his f</span>
  <span>ather was right, (which he wasn't) he would definitely be willing to go to hell for love. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Like a river flows</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely to the sea</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Darling, so it goes</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Some things are meant to be</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>meant to be. Maybe the way his family reacted was for the better. Maybe the way he met Sapnap, George, Bad, and all his friends was meant to be. Maybe releasing that song was meant to be. Maybe his feelings for George were meant to be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take my hand</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take my whole life too</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help it. The few tears that fell off his face landed on the back of his hand, dripping onto his knuckles. He couldn’t help the fact that he loved George. He was simply too perfect. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Like a river flows</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely to the sea</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Darling, so it goes</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Some things are meant to be</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take my hand</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Take my whole life too</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He repeated the lyrics, slowing the strums to the last part of the song. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He strummed the last chord, before sniffling away his worries. He let loose a hiccup, before snatching his phone off the group. He flipped the camera, holding it up to the sunrise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Hey, George. This probably won’t get to you ever. I just, I want to describe the colors to you. Since, y’know, you can’t exactly see them. I want you to know what they feel like. So, here I go. The pink feels like love in a way. It feels like the butterflies in your stomach or the welcoming heat that spreads across your cheeks when you get flustered. It reminds me of sugar when you eat too many sugar cookies on Christmas. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The orange is warmth. It reminds me of home when you come inside after a long day and you see your cat, or your sister, or even just your room and it feels ok. It’s like an emotional hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The yellow is pure happiness. It tastes like cheerios. It’s the sunlight on your skin when the air is still cool but it stings your eyes. Or when you get up really early in the morning to watch the sunrise, kinda like what I’m doing now.” Dream chuckled, before continuing to describe the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The purple color is like reassurance. It’s that feeling of when you know something for sure. You’re sure of yourself, and you’re proud of it. It sounds like a really quiet, soft hum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The blue, to me, is like the unknown. It’s cold, but it’s a comforting cold. Almost like standing in front of a fan or air conditioner when it’s really hot. Relief. Blue is the wind. It’s like being ready to face your fears. Being ready to experience what’s about to come. I think I’m ready to face the unknown, George. I think I’m ready.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ended the video, soaking up the rising sun before finally getting back in his car and driving back home. The rest of the day went smoothly. He cleaned the guitar, placing it back on its stand in his room. He spent most of the day listening to music, doodling random things onto an old notebook, and even practicing speedrunning. H</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>e asked Tommy to join his stream, and of course, the boy said yes. He had already been streaming for 2 hours, so it wouldn’t be long.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Hello?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Hello, Clayton!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Well hello there, Tomathy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “How are you, Big D?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m good! And you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m alright. I just got done with my massive-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tommy, I swear-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My massive poo.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I hate you. You’re such a child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “You know I went in the alley today?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So brave of you, Tommy. Did you take your vlog gun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “And my vlog knife.” A burst of light laughter flowed through the call. “What did you do today, Dream?” He moved his character around, throwing carrots around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I actually woke up really early today, I was able to catch the sunset.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yeah? How was it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really beautiful. I brought my guitar with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Would you play us a song, Dream?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “What would you like?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “You’re a Beatles fan, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yes, I am.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect.” He took it off the stand. “Ready?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whenever you are. Get your clips ready, chat!” He chuckled before strumming the guitar. He hadn’t played the instrument so much in one day in a long time. I guess if it helps him heal, then go for it, right? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>All my troubles seemed so far away</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now it looks as though they're here to stay</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I believe in yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The younger on the call immediately began to hum along, as Dream started to realize how much the song actually applied to his current state and situation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm not half the man I used to be</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There's a shadow hanging over me</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, yesterday came suddenly</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He and Tommy sang together, probably with a few people watching at home too. It was surprising, honestly, about how every time he sang a new line, he just related to it more and more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>he </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>had to go</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don't know, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>he </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't say</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I said something wrong</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I long for yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy hadn't realized that Dream changed the pronouns, so he sang 'she' while Dream sang 'he.'</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Yesterday</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love was such an easy game to play</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I need a place to hide away</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I believe in yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was aware of the way his voice was cracking every now and again, but it wasn’t often enough to be concerning. He was a</span>
  <span>ware of the warryness of Tommy’s voice, but they still sang together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>he </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>had to go</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don't know, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>he </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't say</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I said something wrong</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I long for yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love was such an easy game to play</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Now I need a place to hide away</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I believe in yesterday</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After repeating the same lines, his hand still collected tears as it had at the beach earlier that day. It felt good t</span>
  <span>o <em>silently</em> cry. Even if almost 150k people were listening to the raw emotion in his voice, he didn’t seem to care. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That was really good, Dream.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sniffled his nose, wiping it off with the sleeve of his green sweatshirt.</span>
  <span> “Thank you, Tommy.” He put the guitar down on the floor. “Can I give you an honest piece of advice? Like, no jokes, just advice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, just remember I’m streaming.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He took a sip from the water bottle on his desk. “I think, I think that you can form your own family. You choose who you surround yourself with. Just, make sure you’re happy, ok?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yeah, I will Dream. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “And that advice is for the viewers, too.” Tommy chuckled, shooting a dm to Dream quickly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>tommy</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>i’m gonna end stream</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>can we talk quickly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>of course!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>And Tommy did so. He muted before saying his goodbyes, then rejoining the call. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Dream!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Hey! So what did you wanna talk about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wanted to check up on you. You got a bit emotional there, and although it was good advice, it was a lot. Like, a heavy topic.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream sighed. “I don’t know, I don’t really wanna lay all my personal problems on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I <em>offered</em> to listen, you’re not the burden you think you are. I wanna listen, Dream.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, but if you get uncomfortable, tell me to stop. Ok?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Did you see my tweet from yesterday?</span>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I- Do you think I’m homophobic?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! No, not at all. Just, I think my family is, Tommy. My Mom actually called me yesterday, I was really excited to hear from her, y’know? But, um, she and my Dad asked if I could stay away from them. She said I can’t, erm, I can’t call her Mom? It feels weird telling you that I just got fucking disowned yesterday.” He laughed it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I’m sorry, Dream. Is that why you sang </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yesterday</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I did. But once I listened to what I was saying, I kinda realized that I’m fucked.” Dream let out a loose laugh, and Tommy joined him. “I like George, Tommy. My song was about George.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. That’s not good, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Maybe? I’ll be able to tell once he talks to me about it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t talked about it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m waiting for him, I want him to be ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I see.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any advice for me, child?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Whatever you do, do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> give up on George.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “What does that mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Take it as you will, but believe me, I’ve talked to the man before. Don’t give up on him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. Ok, I won’t. Thanks for listening to me.</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Anytime, seriously. If you ever want to talk again, you can come to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “The same goes for you. Don’t hesitate to call me, alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, big man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I’ll catch you later?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, goodnight Dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Goodnight, Tommy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> It wasn’t really a ‘goodnight,’ as it was still 5 p.m. where Dream was. Maybe he should make a real dinner. No takeout, no processed foods. A real dinner. He checked his phone, and with no texts from Sapnap, assumed that he was on his way to Florida. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had assured Dream that he would show up in the next few days, which Dream was quite happy about. He promised to hide a key in the plant next to the door, so, in case Dream was sleeping, Sapnap could still get in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, he would be up for now, and probably a little longer. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tommy and dream bonding moments shut up i'm sobbing</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. in florida</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a chapter in which George gets advice from an old woman on a plane-</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Running through the airport was not how George expected his night to go. He thought he would arrive early, get there peacefully, and have a safe trip. But his fucking alarm didn’t go off, and now he was grabbing his luggage and running.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He hadn’t run full force in a while, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make that flight. He may have opted for a small backpack instead of a large suitcase. Definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> enough for the week he had in Florida, but if he needed to, hiding in the small hotel room would do well in the small number of clothes he got.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Fast forward, the flight was minutes from landing. He had slept quite well on the flight, and couldn’t tell if it was energy or adrenaline that was keeping him awake now. He began to fiddle with his hands, and his leg bounced up and down, to the notice of the passenger across the plane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nervous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> George turned to look at the woman. She was probably in her 70s, her curly grey hair neatly on her head. “Yeah, I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Meeting someone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say that. Why are you flying in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “My granddaughter was just born.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Congrats!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thank you, son. And you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I have to figure something out with someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Honey, we have a few minutes left on this plane, and I have a few decades of advice. Tell me what’s going on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, there’s this guy. I’m interested in him, we’ve been friends for a while, but I recently found out he’s probably interested in me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Then why are you so nervous?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’ve never really met him before, and he doesn’t know I’m coming. I’m afraid I’m gonna lose him by telling him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my, I’m gonna let you in on a story, alright? Quite a long time ago, I really loved this woman, romantically. She was amazing, really. But I was too afraid to tell her. I thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why fix something if it isn’t broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>? But she got away. She fell for another, moved away, and had her own life. And although I eventually moved on and met my husband, I regretted </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was really difficult, and I truly never stopped loving her. Look, you don’t want to get to my age and regret things you couldn’t prevented, could’ve affected. Go for it, kid. I promise you, if you do something about it now, you won’t regret it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George processed what he had heard, shifting to face the woman, and smiling. “I will, I’ll do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m glad to hear that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Wendy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Well, I owe it to you, Wendy.” The passengers began to get up, and George grabbed his carry-on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “And yours, sweetheart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “George, I’m George.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake as the passengers began to get off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, now what are you still doing here, George? You gotta go!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, seriously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She smiled, before shooing him away with her hand. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that, and a lot of shoving, George found himself in the backseat of a taxi. He grabbed his phone, texting his other best friend. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>sapnap</b>
</p><p>
  <span>this is dreams address, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p>
  <span>yeah, why?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>no reason</span>
</p><p>
  <span>george? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>*george shared his location for 24 hours*</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>why the FUCK are you in florida?!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i’m gonna fix it</span>
</p><p>
  <span>thanks to wendy</span>
</p><p>
  <span>who the fuck is wendy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>wendy convinced me to confess</span>
</p><p>
  <span>i’m gonna go tell dream</span>
</p><p>
  <span>wendy succeeded more than me?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>well, thanks wendy</span>
</p><p>
  <span>whoever the fuck you are</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>George shut his phone off, looking up to the driver. He quickly paid, before grabbing his backpack and hopping out of the backseat. It was much more humid in Florida. In front of him, Dream’s house. He stood on the sidewalk. Should he text Dream? Call him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> His question was soon answered with a video. A video Dream sent him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He watched the whole way through, a video of Dream explaining colors to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “The pink feels like love in a way. It feels like the butterflies in your stomach or the welcoming heat that spreads across your cheeks when you get flustered. It reminds me of sugar, when you eat too many sugar cookies on Christmas.”</span>
  <span> George tapped his foot on the pavement, throwing the heavily worn backpack over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The orange is warmth. It reminds me of home when you come inside after a long day and you see your cat, or your sister, or even just your room and it feels ok. It’s like an emotional hug.” George smiled, the kindful gesture warming his heart. Dream was good at describing things. He started walking up the driveway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The yellow is pure happiness. It tastes like cheerios. It’s the sunlight on your skin when the air is still cool but it stings your eyes. Or when you get up really early in the morning to watch the sunrise, kinda like what I’m doing now.” Dream chuckled, as it warmed George’s heart. He was now up the driveway, turning to walk up the stairs to the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The purple color is like reassurance. It’s that feeling of when you know something for sure. You’re sure of yourself, and you’re proud of it. It sounds like a really low hum.” Reassurance. George needed reassurance. He straightened his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair as he reached the top of the steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “The blue, to me, is like the unknown. It’s cold, but it’s a comforting cold. Almost like standing in front of a fan or air conditioner. Blue is the wind. It’s like being ready to face your fears. Being ready to experience what’s about to come. I think I’m ready to face the unknown, George. I think I’m ready.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’m ready too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raised a hand in a fist, knocking three times. The first knock was extremely unsteady from his shaking hand. The next was stronger, and the third was confident. He left his fist leaning on the surface. A voice called from inside.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I thought I said the key was in the plant, dude!” George was confused, but not a single word could pop into his mind. Dream was behind that door. Dream. The same Dream who was his best friend. The same Dream he fell in love with. The same Dream who he’s never seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open, and his arm was still up in the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George?!” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a confession along with a cheesy cliche scene of dream singing to george because i'm cheesy like that and i love fluff please enjoy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream finished chewing the large forkful of homemade pasta he had shoved into his mouth. It was 2 hours after he started cooking, but Dream was pleasantly surprised by the good taste. He grabbed his phone, taking a picture before putting it onto Twitter. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Dream</b>
  <span> @dream tweeted:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>i’m a fucking chef, idiots</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Attachment: 1 image</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t expect anyone to believe it tasted good, but he didn’t need anyone else’s opinion. Well, maybe he’s like to hear George’s, but that’s not something he would be getting any time soon. He opened his messages, convincing himself to send the sunset video to George. He would probably like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He continued to pile pasta into his mouth, him being starving from the past 2 hours of cooking. The leftovers sat in front of him, but that was something he’d deal with in a bit. For now, he could enjoy the fresh meal he made himself. A knock soon came from the door, and it confused him at first. Who would be here at 7:34 p.m.?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He remembered about Sapnap and called out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span> “I thought I said the key was in the plant, dude!” He got up from his seat at the kitchen island, pushing it in before turning to Patches. “Don’t touch it.” He walked towards the door, excited to see his oldest friend for the first time. Someone he could </span><em><span>actually</span></em><span> call family. He swung open the door, only to find someone that definitely </span><em><span>wasn’t</span></em><span> Sapnap. “George?” Both men stood frozen, looking at the other. He couldn’t tell if he or George were more shocked. </span>“Why- How- What- What are you doing here?”</p><p>George looked down at his hands, and Dream just started back with his mouth wide open.<span>“I know you didn’t expect me, I can leave if you want-” George stopped talking when he was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. </span></p><p>
  <span>Dream began to shake a bit, sniffling into George’s shoulder. “Don’t leave, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” George nodded, leaning into the hug a bit more. They both had their faces buried into the other, arms strongly wrapped around shoulders and waists. They stood there for what could have been 10 minutes. “Do you, um, wanna go inside? I actually just made pasta.” Dream gestured towards the door. “We can talk over pasta?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “That sounds amazing.” Dream nodded, turning and leading George back into the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You showed up at a great time, I actually cleaned yesterday!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> George smiled. “Were you expecting someone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh, yeah!” Dream filled a bowl full of pasta and sauce. “Sapnap was actually gonna come over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Without me?” George responded in a joking tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, he, um, I needed someone. He offered to come for a few days, but you’re here now? Oh, I only have one extra room, maybe I could sleep on the couch-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I booked a hotel, Dream. I can’t show up unexpectedly and think you’ll let me sleep in your house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, if you come to Florida, you’re staying with me. End of discussion.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t argue, instead, picking up some pasta and shoving it into his mouth. “This is actually really good!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Thank you! I made it from scratch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You’ve been doing a lot of productive things lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I guess so.” He shoved more pasta in his mouth. They ate in silence, Dream cleaning their bowls. By the time he finished, George was already captivated by Patches on the couch. He walked over, sitting on the other side. “So, erm-” Dream cleared his throat. “Why did you come here?” George looked up at Dream, who looked straight forward at the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I needed to talk to you. And not over a stupid screen or a microphone, I needed to talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dream repositioned so that his hips faced George. “You figured it out, the song?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, I did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, George. I was drunk, and I had recorded it a long time ago, I didn’t even mean to ruin things like I did-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why are you thanking me? I probably made you so uncomfortable, crushing on a straight guy and writing a fucking whole song-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’m thanking you because you gave me the confidence to tell you. I can tell you how you make me </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking happy. And how I miss you seconds after we finish talking. And how I just want to hold you, or you to hold me, or anything. And how you mean everything to me, Dream.” He moved closer, resting his hand on Dream’s leg. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream raised his hand to cup the older’s face, bringing them closer together. His breath hitched. “Can I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Please.” </span>
  <span>It wasn’t like fireworks, it wasn’t like a movie cliche, it wasn’t groundbreaking. It was the calm after the storm. It was comfort, and that was all either of them needed. A little while later, they finally separated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Dream commented, pulling George into his arms as he leaned back on the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea.” With nothing else to say, they sat in silence, Dream eventually taking out his phone. He opened YouTube first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a pretty good topic to write music about. It’s been tr</span>
  <span>ending #1 for almost 48 hours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George playfully scoffed. “Maybe you just do good writing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He then opened his messages again. First texting Sapnap, asking when he would be at his house. He then opened his messages to George. “Did you, uh, get this video?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> George glanced at his phone. “Yeah, I did. It was really sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “You know, I cut part of the video out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, I was playing the guitar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I’d like to hear that if it’s ok with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s in the other room, I’ve played it so many times today. I’d be chill with playing it instead of showing you the video.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Actually?” George’s eyes lit up like a little kid’s on Christmas, causing Dream to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, come with me.” Within minutes, Dream was sitting on the end of his bed with his guitar, and George was sitting next to his pillows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wise men say</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only fools rush in</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream looked up for a split second, his eyes immediately finding George’s, whose eyes were sparkling (and a bit watery).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shall I stay?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Would it be a sin</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I can't help falling in love with you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream was sure that George was singing along, but continued as if he didn’t notice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like a river flows</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely to the sea</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Darling, so it goes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Some things are meant to be</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He put emphasis on </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘meant to be’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, hoping that George would pick up notice of it. (Hint: he did)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Take my hand</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Take my whole life too</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For I can't help falling in love with you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finished, he placed the guitar down before looking up at George, who was already moving closer to Dream. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. There was nothing said, there was nothing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> They were fine just sitting there, eyes closed, foreheads touching. After time had passed, Dream gestured to lay down, pulling George close to his chest. Arms wrapped around his waist, he left a kiss on George’s nose, who hummed and placed his own hand on Dream’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Dream leaned his head onto the older’s, falling asleep as lonely patterns were traced onto his chest by his best friend, strike that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>IT'S SO CLICHE THIS WOULD LITERALLY NEVER HAPPEN BUT I AM FUELING THE FLUFF</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. it's pretty fucking obvious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Dream woke up, he completely forgot about the last night until he realized that there was someone on his chest. George was on his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he wanted to lay there for the rest of his life, he felt the need to get ready. He slipped out of the bed and got into the shower. It was weird to shower without the loose bracelet around his wrist, but it felt freeing to be without it. It was still on the counter, but he could throw it out later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He redressed, making a cup of coffee and cooking some eggs. When he went back to the guest room to make the bed, he walked back out to find George drinking his coffee. Not that he minded, it was just a bit shocking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Does my coffee taste good?” George jumped, looking over to Dream, who had a smile on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, sorry! I thought that-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Georgie.” He watched as George’s cheeks flushed, and he draped his arms over the older’s shoulders as he stood behind him. George leaned into the touch, both men closing their eyes. They stood there like so for who knows how long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Uhh, am I interrupting something?” Sapnap stood in the kitchen, holding a suitcase in his fist. He jumped up, running to see his best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Sapnap!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> The youngest giggled, soon forming a group hug in the hallway. “We can hang more once I shower, I feel disgusting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “You can put your suitcase in the guest room, and there are towels in-.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “I’ve been here before, dude.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, just habit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>” Sapnap laughed and went to the guest room. “I’ll be like 15 minutes, then we can talk, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Dream’s funny expression turned a bit more serious, and he swallowed and nodded. Sapnap went into the bathroom, and Dream walked into his own room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>The rest of the day went smoothly, and the three friends spent a lot of time talking about recent events. It did get emotional, but it was alright. His two best friends were by his side, and that was all he really needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Later, Dream went back to his room, Sapnap to the guest, and George laid idle on the couch. He swung his feet to the floor, practically tiptoeing to the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “Dream? Are you awake?” He whispered, not wanting to wake him if he wasn’t already.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yeah, what’s up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could I stay in here with you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream sat up in bed. “I didn’t think you were gonna ask.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> If they had cuddled that night, it was their business.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> If they were officially together by the end of the week,</span>
  <span> that was their business.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>If they moved in together as soon as possible, spending every single second together, that was their business.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> If they were truly happy together, that was their business.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> If they </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>each other, that was their business.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, for the sake of things,</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>it was pretty fucking obvious.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry for the short chapter! i wanted to end it without adding too many extra details, and this seemed like the perfect way to do so. </p>
<p>thank you for all the kudos, comments, and everything else in between! i appreciate it with my entire heart.</p>
<p>i plan on starting another fic very soon! it'll probably take a few days, since i wanna prepare a few chapters so it doesn't take forever to update. </p>
<p>on another note, i hope you all are doing well wherever you are in the world. please, take care of yourself and stay safe! &lt;3</p>
<p>thank you once again, and i hope to see you soon!</p>
<p>- seeds &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don't have a specific update schedule, but i'll update pretty often! i hope you enjoyed, any feedback is appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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